


All My Roads Lead to You

by Erandri



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe- Famous Patrick, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Developing Relationship, I Tried To Make the Timeline Make Sense But Dan Levy Didn't Give Me A Lot To Work With, Living Together, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Canon, The Author Knows Absolutely Nothing About a) Running a Gallery or b) Being a Musician, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erandri/pseuds/Erandri
Summary: It takes David three days to drive to New York in Roland's old truck, which gives every one of his friends just enough time to come up with excuses for why he can't stay with them. With nowhere else to turn, David finds himself on Patrick's doorstep, hoping to rebuild his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did not intend for this to be as long as it is. I honestly didn't even plan to write this story. I just had a thought that wouldn't leave me alone and now here we are.
> 
> Not beta'd.

David stares at the door in front of him, watching his reflection in the apartment numbers and wondering whether he should knock or just walk away and pretend that he never came here, to begin with. He’s not even sure why he did come here, except that it’s one of the last places he thought of to go. He can’t afford an apartment on his own, or even a hotel room that’s anything worth saying in- he refuses to sleep anywhere rated less than four stars after what he had to put up with over the last several months.

Knowing that it’s either this or face another night sleeping in Roland's truck he sets his bag down and steels himself. Taking a deep breath, he raises his hand, knocks softly on the door and waits. Everything is silent for a moment and David startles when he suddenly hears the deadbolt being slid back. He heart leaps into his throat as the door swings open and Patrick stands on the other side.

“David?” Patrick asks, his eyes wide. For a moment, everything is fine. There’s no bad history between them and David is just a friend, asking a favor from another friend. Then, the shock fades and Patrick’s face falls.

“Hi,” David whispers, not knowing what else to say in face of their history.

“What are you doing here David?” Patrick looks as good as he ever did. Better even, now that the years have allowed him to fill out a little bit more. David’s disappointed to see that his hair has been cut short, all traces of the curls David once loved so much are gone, but so much about him is the same too. His eyes are the same. David had figured that over the years he would come to forget them, but they’re the exact same soft brown as his memories.

“I- I need a place to stay…for a little while. Just um, just until I can afford to get my own place,” he explains. He had been optimistic when he first got here, even grabbing two of his bags out of the back of the truck in hopes that it would be one less trip for him to make.

“So get a hotel,” Patrick tells him, shutting the door on him.

“Please Patrick!” he yells before Patrick has the chance to shut him out and Patrick stops with the door half open. David can’t see him behind the door, which almost makes what he says next come a little easier, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Patrick doesn’t move for a long time and David honestly doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

“What about all your artist friends?” Patrick asks, but he opens the door up a little more.

“Well, it turns out that they don’t find me nearly as interesting without my money.”

“Imagine that.”

Patrick had always thought that his friends were fake, and David had known that he was right the moment no one would take him in after Revenue seized all their money. If their relationship weren’t what it was David may concede Patrick was right, but there's too much history between them for David to admit it.

“Please,” he asks again, “It took me three days to drive here and I would really prefer not to sleep in a truck again.”

“You slept in a truck?”

“I drove here in a truck and couldn’t afford to get a hotel.”

Patrick opens the door the rest of the way and really looks at him. David knows that he must look awful. The entirety of his wardrobe is currently packed away in cardboard boxes and suitcases, and not even his most expensive facial wash can hide that fact that his face was pressed into the seat of Roland's truck overnight. So far he's managed to block out the thoughts of who or  _what_ has also been on that seat.

“How long?” Patrick asks him with a sigh and David feels something dangerously close to hope.

“I don’t know. Just until I can get a job and find an apartment,” he admits. Patrick had always liked it when he was honest.

Patrick looks him over one more time, and then, because Patrick has always been a better person than he ever could be, he opens to door again, “You can stay in the spare room.”

“Thanks. Thank you,” David rushes to say, leaning down and grabbing his bag and suitcase. The bag falls off of his shoulder as soon as he takes it but he doesn’t bother to fix it and give Patrick the time to change his mind.

It feels weird to walk into the apartment and see that after four years almost nothing has changed. Some of the furniture is new, and David spots a couple of decorations that weren’t there the last time he was here, as well as a couple of decorations that are notably missing. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what happened after he left, but Patrick seems to have gotten rid of everything he brought into the apartment. He can't say he's surprised, even if he is a little disappointed.

He follows Patrick to the back of the apartment where his little spare room is and sets his bags down, “I um, I’ve got a lot more that I don't want to leave in the truck. Could you help me bring them up?”

Patrick looks at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing and okay, maybe it’s not the most polite thing to ask your ex to help you move in after you show up on his doorstep begging for a place to stay, but some of those boxes are really heavy and he had been the one to have to load them all. “I don’t think so David,” Patrick tells him and leaves without another word.

It takes him the better part of an hour, but he finally manages to drag all of his bags up to Patrick's apartment- he’s so glad that he lives in a building with an elevator because he would have rather died than haul all his clothes up to the third floor. Patrick does his best to ignore him every time he goes through the apartment, but every once in a while David will catch him watching him. David looks away every time, feeling bad for barging back into Patrick's life after leaving it so abruptly.

“I um- I wasn't sure if you would still be here?” he says as he walks into the kitchen when he's brought the last of it up. Patrick is standing on the other side of the kitchen island, finishing a beer that he’s been nursing since David arrived. Or maybe it’s not his first, David hadn’t really been paying attention.

“I like it here, despite some of the memories,” Patrick says, which stings. He deserves it, but it still hurts, “What are you doing here David?”

“Well I assume you heard about what happened to my family,” he starts, knowing that _everyone_ in his old circles knew about what had happened to them. It’s not every day that one of their own loses everything they have. Patrick nods and for the first time that night looks genuinely apologetic, “We were living in this little town my Dad bought years ago, Schitt's Creek and it was just- I didn't fit there. So when I had the opportunity to get out I took it.”

“Without any kind of plan?”

“I had a plan,” he says defensively. He had a five-year plan all laid out in his head, it’s not his fault that the other major parts of his plan bailed on him, “The plan just isn't going according to plan is all.” Patrick doesn’t say anything else and David feels compelled to fill the silence, “I belong in New York. This is where my entire life is. I- I couldn’t make it anywhere else.”

“I hope it works out,” Patrick tells him softly, and David melts and the lace of affection in his voice, “I’m going to bed, turn off the lights when you’re done.”

David watches silently as Patrick downs the last of his beer and stalks off down the hall to his room. David stands in the kitchen for a long time, feeling so out of place and yet remembering how comfortable he used to be here. He had made a home here, for a little while at least, but it had been too good to be true. Still, David missed this apartment after everything else fell apart.

Pushing the months of memories out of his mind he shuts off the kitchen light and retreats to the spare room. He pauses by Patrick's door, seeing the sliver of light coming through under the door. He wants to knock, but he doesn’t know what to say, and the decision is taken out of his hands when the light goes off.

* * *

Alexis shows up a week later and she's absolutely furious at him. He had agreed to meet her at the bus stop downtown so that she could drive Rolands truck back for him and he had been hoping for a quick turn over. All she's done so far is complain about the old lady who fell asleep on her on the bus and the little kid who spilled popsicle juice on her shoes. When they get to the truck he hands her the keys and sends her off, telling her not to get hit by a truck or anything.

“What do you mean bye? I’m staying the night,” she tells him, holding up her bag as if he should have realized. He had noticed the bag but had been hoping that it was just because she was hoping to fill it on a shopping trip or something.

“Well, you can’t stay with me!”

“Why not! You wanted me to stay with you before!”

“You just can’t,” he says with finality. He can’t tell her that he’s staying with Patrick because she’s the only one who knows the whole story and it would raise a lot more questions than David has answers for.

“Alexis?” he hears Patrick call from behind him and David closes his eyes in defeat. Is nothing ever going to go the way he wants it?

“Patrick!” Alexis gasps, leaning around David so that she can get a better look at him, “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t David tell you that he was staying with me?”

“That detail must have slipped his mind,” she tells him with a smile and David wishes the ground would open him up and swallow him. The last thing that he needs is her and Patrick  _talking_ , “I’m just here to pick up the truck that David stole, you don’t mind if I stay the night and head back in the morning. Do you?” she asks, wide-eyed and innocent. He does have to admit she’s perfected the look.

He catches Patrick's eye, making motions that he does  _not_ have to let Alexis stay with them.

“Of course not, I’ve only got the one spare room but there’s the couch,” Patrick offers, which David honestly should have expected. It’s not often that people refuse Alexis, and he figures this is Patrick's way of punishing him a little.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest!” she gushes, poking his shoulder. Patrick makes his excuses to leave and they both wave him off as he gets into a cab. Alexis waits until it’s out of sight until she turns on him.

“You never said that you were staying with _Patrick_ ,” Alexis slaps him on the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, but he protests and rubs at the spot anyway.

“It’s not that big a deal, I did say that I was staying with a friend,” he defends himself.

“Um, first of all, it  _is_ a big deal! This is _Patrick_ , the guy whose heart you broke. I don’t think he really qualifies as just a friend.”

“I just didn’t want to get into it,” he says because he can’t really refute any of what she’s said. He knows that he and Patrick aren't friends, a fact which is causing him more pain than he had expected.

“What happened to all your friends who were  _begging_ you to come to stay with them? Weren’t you going to stay with Paulo? Or Annaleigh? Or whose that one that was like, obsessed with mole people?”

“Her name was Portland and last I heard she was living on some commune in Norway. And my friends are just giving me the space that I need to get settled back in. It’s actually very considerate of them since they know how traumatic this whole experience was for me.” Alexis looks at him like she doesn’t believe a word he’s saying, but mercifully she doesn’t press it.

“Okay, but, like. Are you okay? You ran away from home David. You haven’t done that since you were fifteen.”

“I’m... fine. I’m gonna be fine,” he corrects, “I’m talking to a lot of my old contacts. I’m putting the word out and I’m just waiting for the right offer. Keeping my options open.” Alexis hums and he looks around the sidewalk, feeling like everyone passing by is eavesdropping on them, “Can we go inside, I don’t want the whole city to hear us.”

Alexis lets him lead her inside and to Patrick's apartment. She absolutely refuses to sleep on the couch so he shows her to the spare room where she promptly drops her bag on the bed, claiming it.

“This is cute,” she says, looking around the apartment. Patrick's bedroom door is closed and has been since David arrived, but the rest of the apartment is open concept, a feature David had wholly appreciated when he first started staying here, “Patrick has a surprisingly acceptable taste for a guy who wears mid-range denim.”

David doesn't tell her that he had helped inspire the hint of the industrial theme running through the apartment. None of the pieces that he picked out are here anymore, but they’ve been replaced by similar items, each one of which would have earned David’s stamp of approval.

“So what’s it like? Living with your ex?” Alexis asks, plopping down onto the couch, “I mean, just because most of your exes skipped town like immediately after they dumped you.”

David gives her a nasty look but sits down on the chair across from her. “It’s fine,” he lies.

“David, if you can’t tell me the truth, who can you tell.” For once in her life, Alexis actually sounds like a supportive sister and David realizes that she’s right. He had told her everything, once. He had been drunk out of his mind and shouting it over a shitty connection from Cabo, but she had listened to him and supported him then.

“Sometimes I forget,” he whispers, tears already in his eyes, “we barely talk but sometimes I’ll see him doing something, and it’s like the last four years never happened. And then, when I remember, it hurts even more because I know that it was all my fault.”

“That’s not true,” she comforts him, moving to sit closer and taking his hand, “I know that I said you would eff it up, but um, I have had some relationship troubles of my own lately and I have realized that it usually takes to people to make a mistake.”

“No, Patrick was perfect,” he defends because that had been the problem. Patrick had been too perfect, and whenever something is going good for him David finds a way to fuck it up. His therapists called it self-sabotage and tried to get him to identify why he thought that he didn’t deserve nice things. Instead, he identified that he needed a new therapist.

“Was he though? I know you can move fast, but the two of you were in each other's pockets from like, day one,” she moves her hands to emphasize her words and he wonders if she might have a point. He dismisses the idea though, Alexis has never had anything that could be qualified as a serious relationship, so how would she know what a healthy one looks like.

“Wait, go back, what relationship troubles have you had? I thought that Ted was like head over heels for you.”

“Oh no, he is but you know Mutt?”

“You mean the homeless guy?” It’s pretty hard to forget the shirtless hobo in town.

“He’s not homeless, David. He just lives in a barn,” she says as if that makes it any better, “So, I may have slept with him, while I was also engaged to Ted.”

“What? Explain.” He slides to get closer to her, needing to get caught up on all the details. He never would have expected Ted to propose, though he does seem like the type to want that. Alexis sleeping with Mutt he figures has been a long time coming.

“I thought that we were getting out of Schitt’s Creek!” she tells him, and then goes on to explain the whole story. How Ted had blindsided her with a proposal when she told him they were leaving. How she took what she thought would be her last opportunity to have a fling with Mutt and just ran with the opportunity. He lets her get it all out with as little commentary and as few i-told-you-so’s as he can manage, “So when I couldn't give him an answer Ted left on a trip which technically would have been our honeymoon or something, and now Mutt is expecting a commitment. He says that he can wait but he's like, totally flirting with me every day, and I don’t know what to do.”

He can see that she’s actually upset about this so he bites down his initial response and decides to return the favor of being a good sibling. Maybe all those weeks stuck in that room together were actually good for something. “Listen, I know that you and Mutt have been lusting after each other for a long time, but do you really see that going anywhere? I mean, do you want to be Mrs. Mutt Schitt one day? Ted is a nice guy, and as someone who had a nice guy and fucked everything up. Don't let him go unless you’re sure.” David shakes his head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall, “Because um, you’ll regret it. If you’re not sure. You’ll regret it every day of your life.”

* * *

_April 2011_

David stares idly at the canvas hanging in front of him, wondering if anyone would even notice if he left. He paid thousands of dollars for the city’s best catering tonight but all he’s craving is a nice slice of greasy pizza and there’s a little hole-in-the-wall place just a few blocks away that does a great slice. He goes there more than he probably should and knows that he could eat and be back again before the end of the event.

He turns around to watch the floor, seeing if anyone is even paying him attention. The night had been marked as an exclusive event which meant that nearly everyone on the guest list had actually shown. Now, with the introductions made and the speeches given, the night is winding down. People are turning their attention away from the art in favor of gossip and idle chat. David knows that he should go join them and try to sell a few more pieces tonight but he’s already guaranteed two sales- at prices exorbitant even by his standards- and the thought of mingling right now has him feeling likes he’s going to break out in hives.

Eventually, his gaze finds Zara, the star of the evening. She’s commanded the audience's attention all night, effortlessly in control of the room in a way that David can only ever pretend to be. She catches him watching her and gives him a wink over the rim of her champagne flute. He wonders if he could persuade her to sneak out for a quick congratulatory fuck. The idea sounds almost as good as the pizza.

“Really great opening, David,” a sultry voice says behind him and David freezes. He doesn’t need to turn to know that Sebastian is standing just over his shoulder.

“Oh, well, um, than- thank you,” he fumbles, turning and coming face to face with his ex. Sebastian's hair is longer than when he last saw him and a part of David still longs to run his hair through it.

“Of course, you were always great,” Sebastian says in a low voice, eyeing him up and down so obviously that David can feel himself flushing. Sebastian reaches out and runs a finger down David’s collar, popping the top button when he reaches it, and David lets him. He wants Sebastian to touch him more. He hates that Sebastian can still play him so easily, that he can get David right where he wants him with only a few words.

David feels like he should tell Sebastian to stop, tries forcing himself to think of all the mall pretzels he ate after they broke up, but he still finds himself leaning into the touch. Sebastian's hand has continued its journey and he’s now playing with the next button, teasing him, when something catches David's eye.

Turning his attention away from Sebastian, David watches a guy walk quickly past the sign marking the back area as private without so much as a second glance. “I have to go,” David says, breaking the spell he was under. He steps out of Sebastian's reach and heads after the man. Sebastian calls after him, just once, but David doesn’t turn back and he'd be lying if he said he wasn’t a little thankful for the interruption.

David turns the same way down the hall that the man disappeared but the hallway is empty. The exit is alarmed so he knows that he hasn’t left, leaving the only other options as his office and the janitors closet. Making an intuitive guess, David eases the door to his office open and sees the stranger sitting in his desk chair with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

“This is a private area,” David says and the man nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just had to get away for a second,” the man apologizes and David takes a good look at him. He’s got short brown hair that's just threatening to curl and a handsome face. He looks vaguely familiar but in David’s circles, everyone knows everyone so that’s not exactly surprising.

“I could have you kicked out you know,” David says matter of factly. He’s not actually considering doing it, but he wants the guy to at least know that he  _could_.

“Honestly? That would probably be a bit of a relief,” he says with a wry smile and David’s curiosity is piqued.

“Wow. Is the party really that bad that you’re that desperate to leave?” he jokes, taking another step into the room and letting the door close behind him.

“Well the canapes are nothing great,” the guy says and David startles. He spent a _lot_ of money on those canapes and he’s probably eaten two dozen of the mascarpone ones by himself. After a second he notices the smile pulling at the guys' lips and he realizes that he’s  _teasing_ him.

“Well, someone has awfully high standards,” David pokes back, gently. He’s rewarded when the guy smiles outright at him, just for a second before his face falls and he looks exhausted again.

“My ex has been trying to get back together again,” he says, sounding tired. David recognizes that tone, he hears it every time he goes through another break-up.

“I wonder if they all coordinated?” David wonders aloud without really meaning to. It gets his a curious look from his new friend and he feels the need to explain, “my ex was just trying to proposition me.”

“It sounds like we’re both having a great night. I’m Patrick, by the way.”

“David. Rose. I’m David Rose,” he introduces himself.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Patrick says, holding his eye, and David’s heart starts racing, “You’re Johnny Rose’s son.” Patrick continues, which is interesting. Most people who know his family know him as Moira’s son, with younger generations he’s sometimes just Alexis’ brother. His dad, while the money maker of the family, is often left as an afterthought.

David looks at Patrick, debating what to say next. Patrick doesn't seem like anyone else here tonight, and he won't deny that he can feel a frisson of interest between them, so he decides to take the leap, “Do you want to get out of here?” David offers. Patrick's eyebrows raise at the suggestion and he realizes that it may have come out a little more suggestive than he meant it to. “I’ve been craving pizza all night and I think we could both use an escape. I know the code to go out the back without setting off the alarm.”

Patrick just looks at him for a second and David gets the impression that he’s trying to figure something out. When the silence starts to stretch on, David second guesses himself, wondering if maybe he came on too strong and Patrick just wants to be left alone. He’s just about to take the offer back when Patrick says, “Pizza sounds good.”

* * *

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick laughs, shaking his head.

“It’s true! She made the nanny take her back and pick up Alexis. She was so furious, her little light up shoes just flashing away with every stomp of her foot,” he continues. Now, the thought of his mother picking up the wrong child from school is something he can laugh at, thanks in no small part to the thousands of dollars his parents spend on this therapy. Back then the experience had been mortifying for his nine-year-old self, just another reminder that his mom and dad weren’t good parents.

“Your life is just unreal,” Patrick says with a smile. It’s not the first time David’s heard that, but it is the first time that it hasn’t felt like an insult. The way Patrick says it makes him sound like he’s living in some movie, one Patrick would want front row seats to. Patrick looks up at him from under his lashes and David has to look away. He can feel his heart skip and takes a drink to cover the fact that he needs to take a moment to calm himself. He's not used to courting someone. Normally when he's interested enough in someone to consider going out with them they just kind of... fall into it, so taking it any slower than immediate leaves him a little unsteady.

“You were right, this place is really good,” Patrick thankfully changes the topic to something much safer.

“There are two things that you should always trust my judgment on, fashion and pizza.”

Patrick presses his lips together to keep from smiling but David can see it pulling at the corners of his mouth, “You’re saying I should trust your fashion advice when you’re wearing that?”

David scoffs, running a hand down his front to smooth out his shirt. He’d taken off his jacket, black with golden roses embroidered along the shoulder and sleeve, to protect it from any grease but it’s draped over the chair beside him. His outfit had complemented the gallery design tonight perfectly, “I will have you know that this suit is one of a kind.”

“Oh, it must be,” Patrick jokes. There’s no malice in it, unlike with other people who feel the need to comment on his wardrobe.

“Well, not everyone can do the whole mass production look,” David says, waving his hand to encompass Patricks dark blue, but very plain, suit, “Where exactly did you get it, Mens Warehouse?”

“Penny’s, actually,” Patrick says dryly and David has a full body shudder in response.

“You think you’re funny but you’re not.”

“It was a little funny,” Patrick says, smiling and tipping his head to the side in a way that has words like ‘adorable’ springing to mind.

“Tell that to my corpse when your jokes put me in an early grave. Next thing you’ll be telling me that you wear polyester.”

“Well...” Patrick starts and David waves his hands frantically to get him to stop, making protesting noises. There’s only so much he can take in one night and David firmly draws the line at polyester, joking or not. Patrick doesn’t say anything more and David meets his gaze again. This time he doesn’t look away.

He wants to ask Patrick back to his place. It’s right on the tip of his tongue, but what he says instead is, “Can I call you tomorrow?”

He’s almost as shocked by the question as Patrick, but Patrick lights up. “I’d like that.”

* * *

**David Rose   11.32am**

_Want to grab some lunch?_

_There’s a great burger_

_pop up by Central Park_

 

**Patrick Brewer   11.38am**

_I could slip away from work_

_for a little while :)_

 

David stares at his phone, eyeing the emoticon suspiciously. Normally he would be appalled by it, but from Patrick he finds is almost endearing. God, he’s got it bad. They spent a couple of hours together and now David can’t get him out of his head. Before he can say anything about how incorrect Patricks style of texting is, a new message pops up with an address for somewhere in midtown.

 

**Patrick Brewer   11.40am**

_Meet at 12?_

 

**David Rose   11.40am**

_On my way_

 

David’s already on the street outside his building so he has the doorman hail him a cab. He could walk there but he doesn’t want to risk being late. Plus, showing up for lunch all sweaty from walking twenty blocks would not be a good look on him.

The cab drops him off in front of a small, unassuming building. It’s an old construction, something people petition to save from demolition because it has ‘character’. The inside, he’s happy to see, is slightly less drab than the exterior. There’s a bar set up along one wall, taking up a good quarter of the small space. There are a piano and some other instruments set up along the back wall and most of the rest of the space is filled with chairs.

Sitting at the piano and talking to a man in an awful looking blazer is Patrick. It takes him a second to realize that David’s arrived, but as soon as he sees him standing there Patrick lights up with a smile that does funny things to David’s stomach.

“You’re here!” Patrick says, clapping the blazer guy on the shoulder and coming over to him.

“You told me to come,” he says, suddenly anxious that Patrick didn’t want him here after all.

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought that all famous people had to be fashionably late,” Patrick teases.

“Well, good for you I’m only rich,” he jokes back, testing the waters. Some people like the give and take of a good teasing. David does. Other people only like the give, and the sooner David figures out which one Patrick is the better. Thankfully, Patrick beams at him. So it’s the former.

“I’m almost done here, I just have to do a couple last sound checks,” Patrick tells him, pointing over his shoulder to where blazer man is still standing, his manager David is guessing, “Can you wait a couple of minutes?”

David nods and Patrick heads to the back of the room, picking up a guitar that he hadn’t seen yet and slinging the strap over his shoulder. David sits in one of the chairs, pulling his phone out to waste time while they sort out whatever details they’re working on. He’s got a couple of emails about last nights show which he skims through, but there’s nothing that can’t wait until after lunch.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to the man sitting in the back, completely ignoring me,” Patrick says into the mic and David looks around before realizing that Patrick is talking about him. When he looks at the stage Patrick smiles and says, “There he is.”

Taking the hint, he puts his phone away which earns him another smile and settles back into the chair. Patrick smiles at him a lot, he’s realizing, and each time David feels a warmth spread through him.

His attention back on his job, Patrick starts strumming his guitar, starting and stopping as his manager tells him. “Okay, let’s take it from the top of the set. I want to make sure we’re getting your vocals clear,” the guy adjusting the soundboard says and David has a sudden flash of anxiety. What if Patrick isn’t good? What if David doesn’t like his music and he’ll have to lie to him? He’s always been an awful liar, his mother used to scold him for not being able to control his face despite the years of acting classes she put him through. Patrick starts strumming his guitar again and David wishes that he  _had_ been late to save himself the embarrassment of what’s about to happen.

Like watching a car crash happen, he can’t look away as Patrick plays, gently swaying along to the music before he leans into the microphone. David braces himself as Patrick starts to sing and finds that he doesn’t need to worry after all. Patrick's voice is soft but fills the room, and there’s a lightness about it that pairs so well with the guitar.

Patrick stops when his manager calls out, skipping between verses until they’re satisfied that everything sounds good. Once Patrick gets the okay he puts his guitar back in its stand and comes up to him.

“Thanks for waiting,” he says so genuinely that it takes David by surprise. He’s not used to people respecting his time like that, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods his head and grabs his phone before standing up, “Um… the pop up is only a couple blocks away, we could walk or...”

“Walking is fine,” Parick says, opening the door for him. David heads north and Patrick follows, easily falling into step.

“So I didn’t know you were a singer,” he says when the silence gets to be too much.

“Really? I thought you know?” Patrick looks at him like he’s trying to gauge whether he’s being serious or teasing him again, “You gave my label some tickets to the opening and they sent me to do a little promoting. We’re actually recording some stuff for my second album tonight. That’s what all that set up was,” he gestures back towards the bar and pauses, “You should come tonight.”

“Are you sure?” he hates that he has to ask, but Patrick doesn’t seem to notice the insecurity laced in his voice.

“Yeah, I’d like to have you there,” Patrick says and David feels that warmth blooming in his chest again.

“We um, we need to turn here,” he says, changing the subject before it gets too overwhelming.

* * *

“Have you talked to Stevie since you left?” Alexis asks a while later after they’ve ordered dinner in and finished it off. It’s nice to eat Indian food that Twyla didn’t have to defrost. David had almost forgotten how flavorful it could be.

“I don’t think that she wants to talk to me.”

“Oh come on David, she’s like the closest thing you’ve had to a friend since high school.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“It’s true. And I don’t know what went on between the two of you but the poor thing has been moping around the motel office ever since you told us you were in New York. She was worried sick when you disappeared.”

“She was?” David asks, examining his wine glass. He had kind of figured that Stevie would be glad to see him gone after the whole misunderstanding about him asking her to move to New York.

“Of course! She kept coming over to ask if we had heard anything.”

David tries to hide his smile, happy to hear that at least one person had been trying to find him. That’s all he really hoped for when he left, just the acknowledgment that  _one_ person would miss him when he was gone. Knowing that Stevie had been the one looking for him, even after he told her that he didn’t want a relationship with her, is relieving, to say the least.

“Besides, if anyone’s mad at you it’s mom. And Roland, but that’s mostly just about his truck.”

“Why’s mom mad at me?”

“How should I know? She just kept screaming and muttering about some bag and how ungrateful you were. I would call her too, by the way. But maybe giver her a couple more days to cool down.”

He promises to smooth things over with her after Alexis leaves to go back. Changing the subject, she starts to tell him about their father’s new business scheme.

“Does Dad even know how to make bagels? Like, honestly? I don't think he can even make coffee?”

“Well, I don’t think that  _he’s_ gonna be making the bagels. There are gonna be like, bagel people to make them.”

“What bagel people?”

“I don't know! People to make the bagels! How should I know, it’s not my idea.

They fall into a companionable silence after that, though he suspects that she’s also trying to envision their father cooking bagels every day. Before David realizes how much time has passed, he hears a key in the door and Patrick walks in.

“Hey,” Patrick greets them when he sees them sitting in the living room.

“Hey, Patrick,” Alexis greets him with a wiggle of her fingers, “Do you want to join us?”

David watches him hopefully, waiting for his answer. He wishes that they could just talk, but he knows that he probably shouldn't be the one to push it. Still, he remembers how well they used to be together and the more time he spends around Patrick in silence, the more he misses their easy camaraderie. Patrick waits just long enough that David starts to think that he’ll accept before he says, “thanks for the offer, but I have an early morning tomorrow,” and disappears into his room.

* * *

David sleeps on the floor, letting Alexis have his bed. He’s not exactly happy about it, even with the blankets under him it’s not comfortable at all. He’s not willing to sleep on the couch and he’s not going to share with Alexis, he learned his lesson with that years ago. The one and only time that they had shared a bed when he was ten and Alexis was six. He had learned that night that not only was Alexis a bit of bed hog, she also liked to kick in her sleep. She may have grown out of that but David isn’t willing to risk finding out. He does have to admit that since he left, he has missed having Alexis so close and knowing where she was almost all the time.

“Are you awake?” Alexis whispers into the dark. David rolls onto his back before answering her. “I think I want to go back to school,” she says, but something doesn’t click.

“What do you mean  _go back_?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her better. With the shades drawn, there’s barely any light coming into the room, but he can see well enough to see her wringing her hands.

“Oh, well, I never finished high school,” she admits.

“But we went to your graduation!”

“Well, thanks, but I wasn’t there.” David blinks, trying to figure out what to say. He remembers going to the graduation, but it had been such a long ceremony that he ended up slipping out. He ended up getting a quickie with one of the teachers and by the time he went back they were already in the W’s. “But um, I was thinking that you know, if you can come to New York on your own and live with Patrick of all people, then I could finish my last semester.”

“I think that’s really brave of you,” he says. He wants it to be sarcastic but finds that he means it.

“Shut up,” Alexis grumbles, lying back down into her pillow, but a second later her hand drops off the end of the bed and finds his arm, squeezing it just for a second before she rolls over so that her back is to him.

* * *

David stares down at his phone, his finger hovering over the call button. Stevie’s contact lights up his phone, her photo proudly flipping him off. He feels a pang of loss as he looks at it. He knows that he fucked up with her, he just hadn’t realized how badly until she told him that she  _liked_ him. The phone rings a couple of times and he wonders if she’ll even answer, but on the last ring, the call connects.

“So I guess you’re not dead,” she greets him, “would have been nice to know you know, maybe like a week ago?”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wishing for once that he could be having a difficult conversation face to face.

“What did you want?”

“I heard you were looking for me. Like, you were the _only_ one who was looking for me. So thank you. For that.”

“Yeah well, you know, if a guest suddenly went missing it would have looked bad for the motel,” she says, but he can tell that she’s softening.

“Sure, of course,” he agrees and waits.

“You know when someone confesses that they have feelings for you, and then you skip town? That’s not really a subtle hint.”

“It wasn’t about you,” he tells her softly, “I did think about what you told me, and I thought about staying.”

“But?”

“I don’t belong in Schitt’s Creek, Stevie. You saw how I was,” small town was not a good look on him, “I could never have a real life there. And then the  _one_ friend that I had managed to make told me that she liked me and all I could think was ‘here we go again, another relationship I fucked up’. Here's a tip, don't think about that too much because it is a very dark path to go down.”

“Well, you can get that thought out of your head because I don't have a crush on you anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I thought about it and I don't like you anymore. In fact, I don't think I ever did. I was just very horny and all the good guys have left town.”

“Good to know,” he laughs, “friends?”

“Like you could get rid of me that easily,” she promises, and David feels like a weight’s been lifted off of him, “Now come on, you have to tell me all about New York so that I can live vicariously through you.” 

He does. He doesn’t tell her everything, some things will take too long to fit into their first post-fight conversation, but he tells her everything he can. She gives him shit for sleeping in Roland's truck, saying ‘i bet you were awfully grateful for the motels' shitty mattresses when you had your face pressed into Roland's seat’ and he knows that they’re really okay. They hang up after they get all caught up, and David promises to keep in touch.

“Hey,” Patrick says from his open door, and David startles, nearly dropping his phone.

“How um, how long have you been standing there?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can. He had definitely told Stevie some things that he would prefer Patrick not to hear.

“Not long,” Patrick assures him, “I was just wondering if you wanted some lunch, I made too much.”

“Yeah, thanks- thank you,” he accepts and his heart skips when Patrick smiles at him.

* * *

_April 2011_

“Casual,” David mutters to himself, checking himself out in the mirror, “What the fuck does that _mean_?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket again, rereading the last text Patrick had sent him, but it reveals no new clues as to the dress code. He eventually settles on some low key black pants with a white shirt and his leather jacket. It’s always been a good luck charm for him and he’s secretly hoping that it lives up to its reputation tonight.

With one last touch up to his hair, he finally leaves his apartment. There’s a cab waiting to take him back to the bar and he slides into the back seat. It’s a shorter drive than this morning now that they’re not fighting the lunchtime traffic.

A doorman waves him through when he approaches the bar, checking him off his list. He’s a little earlier than he planned and finds the room is only half full when he walks in. He makes a beeline straight for the bar, ordering a glass of wine and claiming a seat at the end. It’s got a great view of the performance area but he’s still set back from the rest of the crowd. It takes another twenty minutes but finally they close the front doors and dim the lights.

There’s some polite but eager applause as Patrick walks out and picks up his guitar. Patrick smiles and David watches him scan the crowd. His pulse races when Patrick's gaze finally finds him and he smiles wider, turning it from something polite to a genuine reaction. Patrick gives a little speech to the crowd as he gets ready, thanking them all for coming out to see him and reminding them all that they’re recording the show. ‘So that means I can’t screw it up,“ he jokes which earns him a chuckle from the crowd.

Patrick finishes getting ready and then there’s a pause, filled with anticipation before he starts playing. David listened so some of Patrick's songs when he got home after their lunch so he at least knows what to expect. They’re not really the type of music he would listen to normally, but he does think that they’re good. Patrick's songs are slow, with just a little bit of twang, and each one sounds like it’s being sung for you. David’s not surprised that the vast majority of the crowd is women and they look like they’re hanging on Patricks every verse.

The first song ends and David applauds with everyone else as Patrick starts right in on his second. This one is a little more upbeat.

David takes another sip of his wine as he watches Patrick perform. He looks comfortable on the stage, his fingers plucking expertly at the guitar strings. David can’t believe that his manager let him wear a button up and mid-range denim to his performance- he looks more like an accountant at karaoke than a semi-famous musician- but on him, it works. The rest of the night passes quickly and David gives a standing ovation when Patrick finishes and slowly the crowd around him starts to gather their things and leave. There are a couple of stragglers, and some women vying to get backstage which David breezes past. Patrick manager is still on the floor and he waves him through to the private area.

It’s pretty easy to find Patrick since the back hall only leads to the emergency exit and a single small room. Patrick is sweaty and flushed from nearly two hours under the stage lights. He looks tired but perks up as soon as David comes into the room. “Hey! I’m so glad you came!” Patrick greets him, standing up and giving him a hug. David barely has time to reciprocate before Patrick pulls back but, delightedly, David notices that he doesn’t step away.

“Well, I couldn’t miss the great Patrick Brewer perform. Did you know his first album when to number five on the charts?” he jokes.

“I see you’ve done some research.”

“I might have googled you,” he admits and watches Patrick's gaze drift down, pausing on his mouth before continuing down to his shirt.

“I uh- I like your jacket,” Patrick tells him and David notices a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Yeah?” David asks, leaning forward just a bit.

“Yeah,” Patrick says breathlessly, meeting his eye again. Feeling confident, David reaches out, sliding his hand around the back of Patrick's neck and closing the distance between them. Patrick immediately responds, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around his waist so that he can deepen the kiss.

“You should know,” Patrick says, moving away far sooner than David would like, “That’s the first time I’ve done that with another guy.”

“Oh-” he pulls back, worried that he made the wrong call. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s fallen for a straight guy but Patrick's arm is still around him and keeping him close, “And? Did you like it?”

“I did.”

Patrick's eyes dart down hungrily to his mouth and Davids nerves fade. “Good,” he murmurs and kisses Patrick again.

* * *

Christelle is one of David's favorite gallerists in the city. She helped mentor him and get his foot in the door when he first decided that he wanted to go into business and he's always looked up to her. She's been running her gallery by herself for a long time and does everything her own way. Where David is black and white, Christelle is color, and her gallery reflects that. As soon as he steps inside he's bombarded by bright explosions of color on the walls.  
  
"David Rose, is that you?" she calls, and David meets her halfway as she comes to greet him, "What on earth are you doing in my little gallery?"

"I'm back in New York," he tells her happily.

"That's fantastic sweetheart. Just goes to show you can't keep a good man down."

"You know me. But um- I did want to ask you something. See, the government seized my gallery when all... that happened and I don't have the start-up money to open a new gallery right now. So I was thinking I could come and work for you again just until I get everything set," he offers and waits for her enthusiastic agreement. 

"You want to start your own gallery? Did your family get their money back?" she asks him.

"No, but I can do it if I find some investors to get me started. I have a couple of options I could try." He feels like this is leading to something, but he has no idea what it could be.

"Oh honey, you don't know do you?" she wonders, so sympathetically that David is taken aback.

"Know what?" he asks, and as soon as he sees her expression he knows that he doesn't want to hear what she's going to tell him.

"David, your parents bought and paid for every one of your patrons," she tells him, and David's world falls out from under him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your amazing comments! It really makes my day to see them come in.
> 
> This is a day later than I hoped to publish, but I found this chapter difficult to get right. Writing Patricks POV just doesn't come as easily to me as David's does and I still feel like he's a little ooc in this chapter.
> 
> Again, not beta'd so all mistakes are my own.

“I’m sorry, I think I just need some more time to work on things,” Patrick says into his phone, stopping outside his door and digging his keys out of his pocket.

“I can buy you two more days,” Tony says over the line, his voice laced with the resignation of a man who has had to make this concession more times than he cares to, “But you gotta give me something Patrick. The label isn’t going to wait for forever for new material. Just give me one song to hold them over.”

“I’ll work on it,” he promises, hanging up and feeling awful for not having anything for his studio session today. He had played around a bit, hoping that a couple of his old ideas would spark and turn into something worth a new record but everything he played didn’t sound right. They were all songs from a past life, lyrics written by a man he can’t be anymore.

Honestly, he hasn’t been able to put together a song he’s happy with for a long time. Tony has been as helpful as he can be, more helpful than he probably should be, but there’s no getting around the fact that he’s been blocked for months. After the disaster of his last album, he needs this one to work out.

Putting his phone away he bangs his head on his door, taking a moment of self-pity before going inside and trying to get to work. When the moment passes he unlocks his door and goes inside.

The apartment has felt different the last couple days now that David’s moved back in. Two weeks ago it had felt empty to him, not so much a home as just a place where he lived. But now, with David back there’s a life to it.

Coming in the other day to see David and Alexis laughing together on the couch had been a shock to his routine, but David had always known how to shake up his routine in the best ways. He had wanted to take Alexis up on her offer and join them that night, hear about whatever it was that made them smile, but he’s been trying to keep his distance from David.

To say he was a mess when David left would be putting it mildly. Now that David quite literally showed up on his doorstep he’s felt like he’s needed to protect himself. He knows exactly how David can hurt him and he doesn’t want to risk anything while he knows that David’s stay with him is temporary. Still, he had noticed the difference between David and Alexis almost instantly. They had been acting like siblings, so different from the two distant people that he had known them to be so many years ago. He wonders what it was like for them, after they lost their money and how they went from two people who were rarely ever in the same country to sharing his tiny spare room without complaint.

When Patrick opens the door he’s surprised to find that there’s a light coming out of David’s room. David had said that he was going to be out all day talking to his contacts, trying to find a job in a gallery, but Patrick can’t say he’s surprised to see that he gave up after just a few hours. Anything other than planning parties usually had David bored to tears after a little while. Patrick notices David’s bag dropped by the doorway, even though Patrick had complained about that even back when they were dating. It had been the biggest argument they ever had, Patrick thought that it should be put in their room, David thought it should be by the door for him to easily grab as he was walking out. At the time he had thought it lucky that their biggest fight was over something so stupid as a day bag.

Sighing, Patrick picks up the bag and marches down the hall, intending to drop it off and then continue ignoring David like he’s been doing. Only, as soon as he steps into the room he can tell that something’s wrong. David is laying on top of the bed, fully clothed with his sunglasses on, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“David?” he asks quietly from the doorway, not knowing what to do or what could have brought this on. He’s never seen David like this, so still.

“Shit!” David yells, sitting up but turning away so that he’s not facing him. Patrick can see him frantically wiping at his face with his sleeves and he realizes that David’s been crying, “Sorry, sorry,” David apologizes, though Patrick isn’t sure what for.

He wants to just drop the bag off and leave, that had been his original plan and he should stick to it. He  _ should _ but it’s easy to see that David’s honestly upset and there’s something about the way he seems to curl in on himself that has Patrick pausing. David had always seemed larger than life to him, but now he seems small and he wonders if maybe over the years he’s been building David up in his mind to be something that he’s not.

David still has his back turned, but Patrick can still hear him crying. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it before he gets anything out. It’s not his job to comfort David anymore, David made sure of that. He doesn’t owe David any more of himself than he’s already given, but then David turns to see if he’s still there, and even with those enormous glasses on Patrick can see the pain written across David’s face.

He drops the bag on the floor and goes to sit next to David on the bed, asking, “What happened?”

“You don’t have to do this,” David tells him, looking down at his hands where he’s spinning the rings on his fingers.

“I want to,” he says honestly, which just gets David crying again.

When he gets himself back under control David says, “I went to talk to Christelle, trying to see if she could get me a job at her gallery. She’s the one who gave me my start and she always supported me, so I- I figured that she would be my best bet to get back into a gallery. Only when I talked to her she told me that-” David pauses to collect himself, but no more tears fall, “that not only did my parents buy my gallery, they bought all my customers too.”

Davids voice cracks at the end and the implication hits Patrick square in the chest. David had been so proud of his work at the gallery. He would court artists for months to get them to exhibit with him, and Patrick couldn’t count the number of late nights David spent planning events or going out to other showings and networking. He had put so much of himself into that gallery and the fact that his parents paid off all his customers means that all of the pride that David took from his gallery had been misclaimed.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He wouldn’t put it past someone to tell David that just to get at him.

“I just got off the phone with my parents, they told me everything,” David says, so quietly that Patrick has to lean in to make sure he hears everything, “They thought that they were helping me.” Patrick doesn’t know what to say so he just puts a hand on David’s shoulder to support him, letting David lean into him.

He had never really understood David’s family when they were dating. David had always been willing to drop everything to help them- the three hours he spent with a wig maker in New Hampshire after a maid had ruined his mother favorite wig had been just the tip of the iceberg of what David was willing to subject himself to for those he loved- but Patrick never really saw that his family was willing to return the gesture. But maybe he had just been looking at it the wrong way. The Roses were nothing like his own family, and yet he expected them to show their love the same way as his parents. Secretly buying their sons customers so that his business didn’t fail seems like just the sort of misplaced thing that they would do to show their love.

When he doesn’t immediately pull away, David leans into him further, letting himself sink into the comfort. Patrick knows that he shouldn’t do it, but he wraps his arm around David better and holds on. For all that he’s changed, and Patrick knows that he has changed, even if he isn’t sure exactly how, David still feels the same in his arms. It’s dangerously familiar, but he ignores the warning bells in his head and lets himself enjoy the moment.

* * *

_ June 2011 _

 

Patrick wakes to David’s arms wrapped tight around him and smiles down at the top of his head. It’s not the first time that this has happened, but it’s new enough that the novelty hasn’t worn off. Patrick hopes that it never does.

It’s like this that he sees a side of David that no one else does. In sleep, all of Davids walls are down and there’s no stress or anxiety in his features. He looks peaceful when he’s not pretending to be something he’s not when he doesn’t have to be  _ someone _ . Thrillingly, Patrick has started to notice David letting down his walls while they’re together. Mostly it happens at night when it’s just the two of them. He’ll let himself be needy, or selfish, or cuddly. It’s like David is finally trusting Patrick enough to be himself.

Pressing a soft kiss to the top of Davids' head, he slips out of the bed. David grumbles but doesn't wake, so he pulls on a shirt and heads to the kitchen. It’s quick work to make breakfast, piling two plates full of pancakes, bacon, and fruit. He finishes with a cup of coffee for David and tea for himself, piling it all onto a tray and going back into the bedroom.

“Are those pancakes?” David asks sleepily as he nudges the door open.

“I thought you were still asleep,” he teases, not surprised in the least that David had stayed in bed rather than join him.

“I was, but then I smelled bacon,” David sits up, smoothing out the blanket and letting Patrick place the tray over his lap. “If this is the kind of service I get, I should start saying over more often,” David says, inspecting the tray, then snaps his mouth shut like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. When David doesn’t look back up at him Patrick takes him by the chin and pulls him up into a kiss.

“I’d like that,” he whispers against Davids' lips. Davids' eyes go dark and then he’s being pulled down into a kiss. This time it’s deeper, David moving against him like he’s hungry for him, and Patrick lets himself be devoured. He shifts to get closer, his knee knocking into the tray, and he jerks back, reaching out to steady the two mugs before the spill.

“Maybe we should wait until after breakfast? I wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste.”

Patrick chuckles, pressing another quick kiss to Davids' lips before pulling away. He grabs his tea and settles down on the bed next to David, watching him dig into the pancakes and letting out a moan that leaves Patrick a little jealous of the food. He takes a sip of his tea to distract himself, but he plans to make David make those sounds again later for entirely different reasons than carbs.

* * *

“Which one do you think goes better?” David asks him, holding up two identical color swatches.

“Um, what are my options again?”

David rolls his eyes but dutifully tells him, “Davy’s Gray or Outer Space.”

“I like Outer Space,” he says, pointing to the color swatch in David’s right hand.

“Really? Because that’s Davy's gray sample,” David says, his voice rising, and Patrick can tell that he’s getting stressed.

David’s finally gotten a contract with an artist he’s been trying to book for years and now that he’s got her, he’s going crazy planning the showing. Patrick’s never really cared for performance art, but David is pouring everything that he has into getting the gallery set up perfectly. It’s proof of his nerves that he’s even asking for Patricks help to begin with. Unfortunately, between David’s new show and working on the final touches for his album, this is the most time they’ve been able to spend together in weeks. Which he’s sure is also a contributing factor to David’s mood.

“Hey,” he says softly, standing up from where he had been perched on the couch. He takes the color swatches out of Davids' hands and tosses them onto the desk before wrapping his arms around David’s waist. David immediately sinks into his touch, looping his arms around his shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter what I pick because we both know that you’re going to choose Davy’s gray, it was your first choice and you keep comparing all your other color samples to it. And even though I may think that they look like the exact same color,” David rolls his eyes at that but Patrick hadn’t been expecting anything less, “the performance is going to turn out just fine because we both know that you have fantastic taste.”

“Oh, you seem awfully sure of that.”

“Of course I’m sure, you picked me after all,” he says with a smile which earns him a huffed laugh out of David.

“Awfully high opinion of yourself there,” David says, kissing him, but they’re both smiling which makes it less of a kiss and more just pressing their mouths together. It’s perfect. Too soon, David pulls away and grabs the Davy’s gray from the desk and pins it onto his mood board.

“So I was thinking,” Patrick trails off, knowing that the silence will get David’s full attention.

“Uh-oh,” David turns around, trying to act like he’s just curious, but Patrick sees the nervous wrinkle on his forehead. 

“My parents are going to be in town next month for my album release party,” he pauses, gathering his courage. His heart is racing but he’s not going to let himself back out now. He left his hometown to try and make it big as an artist, he worked job after job until he got discovered, he’s not about to let his nerves get the better of him now, “and they don’t know that I’m seeing you.”

He watches David react like it’s playing in slow-motion, his mouth falling open in shock. His arms fall away from Patrick's shoulders and he can  _ see _ David already rebuilding the walls that Patrick has just barely started to break down.

“They actually don’t know that I’m gay,” he rushes to get the rest out before David can say anything, “It didn’t feel like the right thing to do to it over the phone. So, when they’re here, I’m going to come out to them. And maybe introduce them to my boyfriend?” he asks the last part, knowing full well that after a month they still haven’t put a label on what it is they’re doing together.

“Oh- oh um, that would be nice,” David acquiesces and Patrick notices the way that he presses his lips together to suppress his smile.

“Yeah? Just nice?” he teases, pressing himself against David and eliminating any space between them.

“That sounds great,” David amends, wrapping his arms around his shoulders again and kissing him soundly, “now come on, I believe my  _ boyfriend _ promised to buy me lunch.”

“Oh did he? That sounds awfully nice, I wish  _ my _ boyfriend would buy me lunch.”

“That’s not nice,” David says, but takes his hand anyway and leads him out of the gallery. Patrick follows happily, listening to David pontificate about the merits of pizza. It’s a speech he’s heard before so he lets it wash over him, focusing instead on watching David.

Six months ago he never would have believed that he could have this. He had been feeling lost, still reeling from his broken engagement with Rachel. He had been spending all his time either at his apartment or at the studio, trying to stay out of the media as much as possible. They had had a field day with the story of his hand Rachels final, public fight. They had framed the cause for the split as anything from wanting to leave his old life- and therefore his small-town girlfriend- behind to make it big, to a secret affair and a possible love child. None of the articles had even come close to the mundane truth that Patrick just felt like there was something missing in their relationship.

For a long time, he blamed himself, thinking that there was something wrong with him if not even a fairy-tale wedding to the perfect girl- his high school sweetheart no less- could make him feel happy.

Now here he is, walking across Central Park with David Rose. His boyfriend. He wonders how he ever could have been willing to settle for anything less. The opening at David’s gallery had been his first real public outing in months and when Rachel called him that night, totally out of the blue, he had thought that that was it. That it would be the start of him and Rachel getting back together and that this time he would have to go through with the marriage. Instead, he had escaped the party for a breath of fresh air and found David instead.

David who immediately made him feel okay. Who ditched his own event just so that he could get pizza with a total stranger. Who had kisses him when Patrick had been too inexperienced to take that first step. His boyfriend, who he thinks he may be falling in love with.

“Are you even listening to me?” David asks, accusatory, and Patrick snaps out of his daydreaming.

“Wait, what?”

“Hmm, very glad to know that my boyfriend wasn’t just ignoring me. We’re here,” David points up and sure enough, they’re standing in front of his favorite pizza parlor.

He apologizes, feeling bad that he had ended up ignoring David’s story for the majority of their walk, “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

“Oh, I know,” David says with a lascivious smile, “but until then, you can buy me a couple slices.”

David gets a mischievous glint in his eye, smirking at him before going into the restaurant. Patrick follows, imagining all the ways he’ll get to apologize tonight.

* * *

* * *

“That sounds nice,” David says from the couch, dragging Patrick out of his daze.

“What?” Patrick asks, looking up at the TV show David was watching. He’s got the subtitles on and the volume low so that Patrick could hear himself play better. It’s something that he used to do when they were dating and the kindness of the gesture now makes his heart twist.

“What you were just playing,” David elaborates, looking over at him. He looks down at the keys, trying to remember what he had played. He’d really just been passing the time, hoping that maybe if he just sat and played and didn’t think too hard about it that maybe he could get a halfway decent melody. Except he had seen David out of his periphery, lounging on the couch like he owned it, and his mind had wandered.

“Oh, um,” he looks down at his finger placement on the keys, playing a couple of them in various orders, but nothing sounds familiar.

“No, it was slower,” David tells him, and then hums a little bit of the melody. He replicates it as best he can but David twists his mouth up and he knows that he’s got it wrong, “No, it was like this,” David says and hums the melody again. He plays it and it sounds good, but there’s still something about it that’s not quite right. “Try the F sharp instead of G,” David tells him, sounding much closer now and he turns around to see David standing over him, watching his hands as he plays.

“I didn’t know you knew how to play,” he says, looking up at David.

“I don’t, but I slept with a girl who played for the Philharmonic for a little while. She liked to roleplay that I was taking lessons with her and I guess some things stuck.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, trying to think if this is one of the myriad of David’s exes that he heard about when they were together. He plays the tune again, tweaking it a little each time and listening to David’s input until it’s become something that they both like. He plays it a couple times more for good measure before writing it down and smiling at the hastily drawn notes. It’s the first good melody that he’s produced in months.

Already, he can hear the words lending themselves to the song. Half-formed lyrics come to him and he lets his mind flow, filling in the gaps of the next verse and everything else starts to fade away. The chorus is more difficult to nail down, but he keeps attacking it, softly humming the words he knows and using nonsense filler for those he doesn’t until finally, he has the rough draft of a completed song in front of him.

He leans away from the piano, blinking to readjust his focus. It’s gotten dark out in the time he’s been playing, and he notices that David’s turned on the lights in the apartment for him to keep working. The TV is now off and the blanket that David had been curled up in had been refolded and draped over the arm if his couch. He looks around to see if David is still around, but it’s late now and the room is empty. He breathes out, swallowing down the disappointment he shouldn’t be feeling.

He stands up and goes to turn off the lights but notices a note card propped up on the coffee table.

_ You missed dinner so I put your sandwich in the fridge. The song sounds great. _

Patrick reads and rereads the note, tracing over the words with his thumb. He sets the note down on the kitchen island and opens the fridge. Sure enough, there’s a sandwich wrapped on a plate waiting for him. He closes the refrigerator door again and fights down the swell of emotions coursing through him.

* * *

David is up early the next day, although any time before eleven could be considered early by his standards. Patrick watches him come down the hall into the kitchen still sleep-mussed and has to look away when he runs his hands through his hair, messing it up even more.

“Morning,” David greets him, going straight to the coffeemaker and starting it.

“You’re up early,” he says in return, turning his attention back to the stove where he’s cooking an omelet.

“I have an appointment,” David informs him, sounding proud.

“An appointment? With who?” he turns to look at David.

He wouldn’t say that they’re friends again, but ever since the secret of David’s parents buying his customers came out Patrick has been making an effort to be more friendly to him. It hasn’t escaped his notice that the only people David seems to talk to since he moved in are Alexis and someone named Stevie. He used David’s friends abandoning him to take a cheap shot at him, but now that he thinks about it it must have been awful for David to have to go through that. He knows that David isn’t naive, but he’ll let himself be used just for the feeling of being wanted and in the course of that he surrounded himself with people who only wanted to use him. He has a brief pang of regret for not being there for David when no one else was, but he pushes it down. He’ll be there for David now.

“There’s a gallery in SoHo. It’s pretty new and the owner wants to hire someone to manage it so they can be more hands-off now that it’s established.”

“You have an interview?” he laughs. In all the years he’s known David, he’s never heard of him doing something so normal as going to a job interview.

“It’s not an interview,” David bluffs, “It’s a face-to-face consultation to see if my experiences would help this particular gallery environment.”

“Hmm, yeah, that sounds like an interview to me,” he teases, taking a sip of his tea. David pouts but doesn’t say anything more.

He finishes cooking his breakfast and sits down at the kitchen island, watching David pour his own coffee once it’s brewed and picking out a muffin from the bakery box he brought in yesterday. David sits next to him, leaving a chair between them, and they both start to eat.

It’s comfortable. And now that they’re speaking Patrick is happy to have someone else in the apartment to help fill the silence. Even when they aren't talking, which is often, the apartment doesn’t really feel silent to him. He hadn’t realized how isolated he had been making himself until he realized that just having David in the same room makes him feel surrounded like he’s by an energy. It's comforting to have that feeling now.

“Thank you for the help last night. And the sandwich,” he says when they’re both almost finished.

“Oh, um. You’re welcome,” David says, and Patrick glances over to see that he’s blushing, “I always liked to hear you work on a new song.”

David doesn’t say anything more so he looks away. David had usually sat himself down on the couch whenever he was working on his music, but Patrick had always assumed that he had just wanted to pass the time by watching TV until David deemed it had been long enough that he could properly distract him again. He never imagined that David always came into the room because he wanted to hear Patrick work.

“It was nice, having your help,” he admits and feels like he’s said too much.

The truth is that, while he may have moved on from his relationship with David, he’s never gotten over it. He’s dated a couple of other guys, barely anything to call a real relationship, but they never seemed to measure up and he’s done a very good job of lying to himself over who he’s measuring them against.

It's a little pathetic, he knows, to compare everyone to a man who broke his heart so viciously, but for a while, David had been his whole world. They had gotten along so well that it feels wrong to want anything less from another man. Maybe he’s dooming himself to failure, but he had thought that David was the one for a while, and he doesn’t want to settle for anything less.

“I’m gonna be at the studio all day,” he changes the subject, finishing his last bite and taking care of his dishes. He’s already dressed and ready so when he’s done he just grabs the folder with his papers from last night and leaves without another word.

He takes a cab to the office, shooting a quick text to Tony saying that he’s on his way with new music. He finds Tony waiting for him in the little old recording booth in the back of the studio. They don’t actually use it for recording anymore but it’s a nice place to test out his new music without having to waste the sound engineers time.

“I hope you don’t feel like I made you force something out,” Tony says, taking a seat by the piano, “I know I said two days but that was more motivation than an actual deadline.”   
  
“I know, but I feel good about this one,” he says, setting up his sheet music. Tony waves him on, leaning back in his chair to relax, and Patrick takes a deep breath before starting. There’s a couple of missteps- a wrong note here or there or a pause while he tries to remember how the next lyric fit into the song- but he gets through it easily enough. The words fall easily from his lips, and all the while Tony sits in silence next to him.

“So? What do you think?” he asks once he finished.

Tony takes a deep breath and thinks over his words before answering, “I think it sounds like you,” he starts. Patrick smiles but Tony frowns, and he knows that’s not all, “Should I ask who it’s about?”

“I think you already know,” he says after a beat, unable to look Tony in the eye.

“Just tell me if I need to be worried,” he asks, “the last time blindsided us all and you were a wreck after. So if you’re going to let him back into your life, let me know if this is something that I need to be prepared for again.”

“It’s not- It’s not about him  _ now. _ It’s a hypothetical,” Patrick explains, though even as he says it he’s not sure if it’s true. His feelings have been all messed up since David first knocked on his door and while he  _ wants _ it to be true that the song is just a wish, he’s not sure if his heart is on the same page as his head. Sharing an apartment with David, the same one that they shared all those years ago, has brought up a lot of feelings that he thought he had repressed.

“Well, hypothetical or not, whatever you decide just make sure you’re sure,” Tony pleads, “It’s a good song though, it sounds like your original stuff. It’s good to hear that again.”

* * *

_ June 2011 _

 

“Your music sounds so good honey,” his mom gushes, cradling his face before pulling him into a hug. He isn’t even off the stage yet.

He accepts the compliment with a smile. His mom has always said that his music was good, even when he was little and making up little tunes about exploring and the Ninja Turtles. Still, it makes him happy in the way only a compliment from your mother can. When she finally releases him, his father is stepping up right after her, pulling him into another hug, “You sounded great up there.”

He thanks them, taking the opportunity to look around the room. There are more people than he expected, columnists, and influencers, and other musicians all milling around the room. Somewhere out there in the crowd is David, waiting for him to come and get him so that he can meet his parents. Patrick scans the crowd but can’t see him yet.

“Listen, I’ve got to mingle for a little bit but I want to talk to you both about something. Later.”

“Of course honey! Go talk to everyone, your father and I can keep ourselves occupied for a little while,” his mom assures him.

He gives them both another hug and moves into the crowd, saying hello to the people he knows but trying not to let himself get roped into any conversations. He didn’t lie, he does need to mingle with people, but right now he’s much more preoccupied with finding David and talking to his parents.

Despite his attempts, a tenacious music journalist does manage to rope him into talking about his album. “Your new single  _ Home _ seems to be very personal. Was it written about anyone in particular?” she asks him. They both know that she’s really asking if the song is about Rachel. It is. It’s also about realizing that you’ve outgrown your old life.

“All of my songs are very personal,” he tells her, trying to keep his answer vague, “I draw a lot of inspiration from my life and a lot of that includes the people I know. I think that what makes a song great is when it’s sung from the heart.”

She gears up to ask him another question but then the crowd starts to move in front of him and, finally, he spots David. He excuses himself and makes his way through the throng of people until he’s standing in front of his boyfriend.

He greets David, moving to lean in to kiss him like normal before pulling back and realizing that he can’t right now. David smiles down at him, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“You were great up there,” David tells him, nodding his head in the direction of the now empty stage.

“Thank you. You ready?” he asks, eager to introduce David to his parents and hoping that that eagerness outshines his nervousness. No sooner have the words left his mouth then David tenses up.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be tonight. Tonight should be about your album and I don’t want you to rush into coming out. We’ve barely been together for two months and you should be sure-”

“David, I  _ am _ sure,” he interrupts. He’s more sure than he ever thought he could be.

Getting his break and living in the city has made him realize that his parents are more accepting then he would have thought. It’s not that he ever thought that they  _ wouldn’t _ be accepting, it’s just that sometimes the schools of thought with small towns and big cities can seem like they lie on entirely different continents. If he hadn’t seen first hand that his parents acted the same around same-sex couples in the city as they did around their old friends back home he might never have had the courage to tell them that he was gay. That is if he ever would have realized it himself.

“I want to do this tonight, I want my parents to know about you,” he explains, touched by Davids concern for him. Then it occurs to him that maybe David may not be trying to be the supportive boyfriend that Patrick is interpreting this as. This could be David giving him an out, his own escape parachute. Suddenly, his happiness fades and he can see the way David is fidgeting with the rings on his hand and how he doesn't want to make eye contact. So he asks, “do  _ you _ want to do this?”

David looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he tries to figure out how to answer. “I’ve never met anyone’s parents before,” he finally blurts and Patrick is taken aback. He knows that David has dated a lot of people- and maybe dated is a strong word for most of those relationships- but surely  _ one _ person had introduced him to their family?

“No one?” he has to double check.

“Well, some of them I already knew their parents, and there were a couple of times - especially back in high school- where their parents walked in on us. And there was the one time I was kind of seeing a mother and her son at the same time but didn’t know that they were related-” David snaps his mouth shut, looking afraid that he’s said too much and ruined the moment. It’s a look that Patrick hopes he can put out of use. “No,” David starts again, “no one has ever wanted to introduce me to their parents as their boyfriend.”

“Well, I’m happy to be the first,” Patrick assures him. A part of him also hopes that he’ll also be the last one to get to do this, but he knows that it’s far too soon to be examining thoughts like those.

Tony, his manager, said that Patrick could use his office tonight, so he finds his parents and leads them to it. The door is already unlocked for him so he lets his parents in, sitting them down on the couch while he takes a chair across from them.

David had said that he would hang back for this part and Patrick had agreed, but now, sitting across from his parents not knowing what their reaction is going to be, he wishes that David was with him. His parents look at him expectantly and Patrick wants to run out and find David, ask him to help him and screw the plan.

“So what did you want to talk to us about honey?” his mother asks. Her voice is calm and encouraging but it sets Patrick heart racing.

He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He wants to tell his parents that he’s gay, he  _ wants _ to tell them about David and how happy he is now but the words won’t come. He’s never kept secrets from his parents, and he doesn't want to start now, but the uncertainty of their reaction stops him.

“Patrick?” his dad asks when the silence goes on too long.

He could lie. He could make something up right now and he knows that David would understand, but the thought of David standing out in the hall, waiting for Patrick to come and get him stops the thought before it really even forms. David had been so nervous about this but Patrick had asked him and he agreed. Patrick can’t back out on his side of the bargain now.

Taking a deep breath he gives himself a little pep talk, reminding himself that he’s a take-charge guy and that this shouldn’t be any scarier than when he told his parents he was moving to New York to be a musician.

“There’s something that I realized about myself a little while ago, and I’ve been trying to find the right way to tell you,” he pauses, looking all around the office because he can’t bear to look at his parents. His mother uses the opportunity to take his hand. He squeezes it and says “I um, I know you used to wonder why I could never make it work with Rachel, and it took me a long time to figure out why,” he takes a deep breath, and finally says, “I’m gay.”

He rushes to explain, telling his parents how something never felt right when he was with Rachel or any of his other few girlfriends, and that until a few months ago he didn’t know why he could never make it work. He finishes, not mentioning David until they give him a reaction beyond their stunned silence, and watches them with his heart in his throat.

They share a look, seeming to have an entire conversation in that single glance. He doesn’t realize that he’s been crying until his mother reaches across the space between them to wipe his tears away.

“Are you happy?” she asks and Patrick feels like he can breathe again.

“The happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” His parents both stand, pulling him up with them and into a hug. He chokes out a sob- from happiness, or relief, or stress he isn’t entirely sure- and lets himself cry.

“There’s um- there’s one more thing,” he says, finally pulling away and wiping his face, “I’m dating someone. His name is David and.. he’s waiting outside.”

His parents both look towards the door like maybe David will be standing there. “Can we?” his dad asks, and Patrick is so delighted to hear that he sounds eager to meet David.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, watching as his mother takes a second to adjust her hair and clothes.

“Do I look okay?” she asks him, wanting to look her best to see his boyfriend and he feels the tears brimming again.

“You look great,” he tells her. He leads them out of the office and around the corner to where David is waiting for them.

David looks terrified, though Patrick isn’t sure that many others would be able to tell. His hair is disheveled like he’s run his hands through it then tried to fix it again, he’s pacing the hallway with nervous energy and playing with the rings on his hand. When Patrick rounds the corner and David spots them he stops dead in his tracks.

“Mom, Dad, this is David. My boyfriend,” he introduces them and watches his mother go over and pull David into a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you, David,” she says into Davids' shoulder and Patrick watches him go from scared to stunned to so so pleased as David slowly reaches up and returns the hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://erandri.tumblr.com/)


End file.
